


Ah, Love

by Klavier



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Idol/Fan relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:53:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27257482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klavier/pseuds/Klavier
Summary: Mingyu arrives at the restaurant on time.Of course, since Yoon Jeonghan is perfect, he’s already standing on the kerb outside.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Yoon Jeonghan
Comments: 15
Kudos: 56





	Ah, Love

Mingyu arrives at the restaurant on time.

Of course, since Yoon Jeonghan is perfect, he’s already standing on the kerb outside. A cool breeze blows the silky edge of his scarf over his mouth. With one hand he flicks it away and rearranges his dark bangs.

He could’ve walked straight off a runway like this, a striking figure against the brick-and-mortar Italian restaurant. The unattainable made real.

When Mingyu gets close enough he calls out, “Hey. You made it.”

Jeonghan looks up and melts into a smile. Mingyu loves that look—has catalogued thousands of Jeonghan-smiles and named this as his favorite. The date smile. The Mingyu smile.

“You look nice,” Jeonghan comments, shoving his phone into a pocket of his coat.

“So do you.”

They don’t kiss, because they’re on a street corner in Hongdae, but a current of tension passes between them that Mingyu feels all over his body. Blood-hot and excited. 

Jeonghan hooks his thumb toward the front door. “Let’s head inside.”

They’re seated after no wait. Mingyu made reservations last week and requested the most private corner of the restaurant. He’s rewarded by a white tablecloth, dim chandeliers, and a bubbling fountain in the corner with a mermaid carved from marble.

Jeonghan gives the statue an impressed look. He leans across the table to murmur, “Oh, this place is  _ nice _ ,” before the waiter begins his spiel.

At this type of restaurant, they are presented with a tasting tray. Jeonghan has a blast chatting up the waiter, asking for recommendations on veal and merlot and camembert. Mingyu relaxes into the red leather seat and just watches. Jeonghan, charming. Jeonghan, in his element.

Mingyu leans both elbows on the table. “Let’s get the special. The beef bourguignon.”

Though they’re relatively secluded, the ambient noise from the restaurant is audible. Jeonghan’s face goes blank. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that. What did you say?”

“The beef bourguignon.” Mingyu raises his voice a bit. The waiter is polite and patient.

“Oh, yes.” Jeonghan points randomly at the tray. “The beef bologna.”

“Bourguignon.”

“Bless you, baby.”

The waiter recommends a bottle of red zinfandel to pair. Jeonghan accepts the advice graciously. He’s the type of person to hold entire conversations with his eyes, and the way he glances at Mingyu between each confirmation of their order says  _ Are you loving this? I’m loving this. I love you. _

Mingyu subtly sits on his hands so he won’t reach across and try touching Jeonghan’s face. Nothing crazy, just… a caress of his jaw. Is he ticklish on his ears? Mingyu doesn’t know. He suddenly wants to find out.

Finally the waiter leaves. Jeonghan settles back and nibbles his water-dunked lemon slice.

“How was your day?” Mingyu asks. 

“Good,” Jeonghan says. His eyes say  _ Better now, with you.  _ “Yours?”

Mingyu doesn’t want to talk about himself. “Fine. Tell me about your new project.”

Jeonghan uses a coy hand to fiddle with his spoon. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone, you know. The company has forbidden it.”

“I’m not anyone,” Mingyu argues. His voice catches on a whine. “You can trust me.”

As always, Jeonghan melts. He recycles the same praise on Mingyu every time and it never gets old. That’s the luxury of being genuine.

“Just for you,” Jeonghan says. “Since you’re cute and you asked nicely.”

He explains the details of his upcoming album concept in a hushed whisper, eyes darting around the room. Whenever a waiter walks too close, he pauses. This is an intensely private conversation that unravels something warm and tingly in Mingyu’s stomach. He feels trusted.

This will be Jeonghan’s second solo album. Mingyu was around for the first, of course, but the second feels more exciting because Jeonghan is solid enough in the business now to be guaranteed success. His fans will buy anything he sells. Less stress and chart calculations are involved.

Mingyu loves that for him—he feels proud just sitting across from Jeonghan, knowing how many people would kill for this opportunity. Jeonghan’s gaze alone makes him feel special, singular.

The first and second course arrive before long. Jeonghan moans with a fork in his mouth and Mingyu inhales water down the wrong pipe. He chokes.

“Don’t be a tease,” he mumbles, face flushed.

Jeonghan shrugs. “You like it.”

“I’m not afraid to tease you back! I’ll get revenge tomorrow.”

“Should I set an alarm?” Jeonghan goes wide-eyed and still. Mingyu shakes his head and waves the suggestion away.

They indulge in new flavors that turn Mingyu’s mouth into a fireworks show. Castelvetrano olives, naturally green and sweet. Bread in savory oil. Wine that goes down like a heated blanket. Slick escargot coats his tongue in garlic butter, thick and heady. That shouldn’t work as an aphrodisiac, but it does, and the more they eat the hungrier Mingyu gets.

He just saw Jeonghan this morning, but—it feels like they’ve been separated for longer.

“Sing for me?” Mingyu asks.

Jeonghan’s eyes stretch wide. “Now?”

“No one’s listening.”

He chews on his lower lip. “What song would you like me to sing?”

That’s a no brainer. “Purple Rose.”

Jeonghan obliges. He starts out humming and breaks into a quiet, soft singing. Tone, perfect. Pitch, perfect. “In the darkness, like the first time immersed in the moonlight, it blooms when no one can see it…”

After one gentle rendition of the chorus, he falls quiet. Mingyu does a golf clap under the table. 

He feels… comforted. Soothed. Jeonghan beams like he understands, and not for the first time Mingyu wonders,  _ Do you  _ really  _ know how much I love you? _

Is that possible? 

The dishes wind down eventually. Jeonghan is telling a story about one of his seniors at the company when he catches sight of the waiter and flags him down. He whispers in the man’s ear, hand cupped suggestively over his mouth. He looks at Mingyu the whole time.

“What was that about?” Mingyu asks when the waiter has left.

“A surprise.” Jeonghan smiles.

Mingyu sets down his soup spoon and pretends to glare. “I made these reservations. What did you do, Yoon Jeonghan?”

Jeonghan arches his brows but says nothing. He’s always like this, two steps ahead. Mingyu smothers a smile in his bowl and cleans out the last of his potato and leek gratin. If he’s being honest with himself, he loves it. One of his favorite things about their relationship is the predictability of surprise.

The waiter returns with a stained glass vase in one hand and a small bowl in the other. From the vase, a dozen lush roses spill out the sides, packed so closely together they look like one singular flower with choppy, geometric petals. They vase is placed at back of the table, blocking their silhouettes from the window and granting better privacy.

In the bowl, there are two scoops of neon orange gelato.

Mingyu’s mouth makes a happy little oval shape. “Is this…”

“Your favorite!” There’s a pause while Jeonghan pushes the bowl towards him. “Orange sorbet.”

Mingyu digs in. He sucks the silver spoon clean and passes the bowl back to Jeonghan. They split dessert this way, giggly and absorbed in each other. 

“You went through all this trouble,” Mingyu says, teetering on the edge of overwhelmed. Gratitude, love, worship, he can’t even put a name to what he feels. Everything. “I just—thank you. For thinking of me.”

Jeonghan’s face changes. In the soft light from the chandelier, he looks younger. Like someone soft and naive. It tugs at Mingyu’s heart until he gets misty-eyed. He recalls the years they’ve spent together, sharing candlelit dinners at every restaurant in Seoul, supporting each other as Jeonghan rocketed to international fame.

Sometimes he misses their early intimacy, when their love was a corner carved out from the rest of the world, before Jeonghan was so beloved that he needed a vase of flowers to hide his face from potential onlookers through the window.

But this is good, too. It makes him feel even more special.

“I always think of you.” Jeonghan’s glance cuts away, bashful.

Mingyu’s whole face heats up. He can’t fight down the grin. “Ah, you’re flattering me.”

“No no no.” Jeonghan waves his hand. “Not flattery if it’s true. I wouldn’t even be here without you.”

He laughs a little, self-conscious. Mingyu wants to douse him with appreciation, flood the whole room with it. He wishes he’d thought to bring flowers tonight. Jeonghan deserves to be spoiled.

Decisively, Mingyu sits straight in his seat. “Come back with me tonight.”

“I have a shoot tomorrow,” Jeonghan says, but his eyes say  _ Ask me again. Ask me sweetly. _

“Please. I miss spending time with you.”

And it works like magic. Mingyu presses all the right buttons. Jeonghan’s mouth flattens into a repressed smile as he motions to the waiter and mouths,  _ Bill please?  _ It feels like Mingyu blinks and they’re already in his apartment, his bedroom, sitting across from each other on his fresh burgundy sheets.

They don’t bother with the lights. This is Mingyu’s favorite part of their routine, where the flirting develops a harder edge and the sweet talk mellows. Jeonghan looks like a fucking dream in blue light from the window. He bunches his little hands in the sheets, eyes locked somewhere low on Mingyu’s face. His lips.

“Thanks for dinner,” Mingyu says. “It was nice.”

“Thanks for the company.” Jeonghan tilts his head and smirks. “You were okay.”

Mingyu laughs and throws a pillow half-heartedly in his direction.  


"Seriously, though," Jeonghan continues. "We only talked about me. How are you? How was your day?"  


Mingyu fiddles with his sleeve. "Same shit. It's been... rough at work lately."

He doesn't want to talk about the daily inanities of his schedule. The monotony, the lack of human connection. All of his friends have been busy with their significant others recently. Mingyu doesn't blame them, he's the same damn way, but. Sometimes it feels like Jeonghan is the only one who really cares about him at all.

“Hey,” Jeonghan says, voice gone soft. “You’re doing a great job, okay? Don’t give yourself a hard time.”

Placatingly, Mingyu nods. Usually those words cheer him up, but he’s not in the right mood tonight. He just wants to be with Jeonghan and let the universe fall away.

“Yeah,” he says. “You’re right. Thanks.”

“I know what will cheer you up if you’re sad.” Jeonghan’s fingers curl over the bottom of his shirt. The atmosphere changes. “You wanna watch me undress?”

Mingyu’s throat bobs. “Um. Yes.”

He leans forward, lips parted in anticipation. He probably looks like a begging dog and he doesn’t care. Jeonghan is his gift to appreciate,  _ his  _ boyfriend, after all...

But suddenly the room goes dark. Mingyu sits up quickly. Shit, did he forget to plug the thing in  _ again _ ? Jeonghan needs a full battery to play.

Slowly his eyes adjust to the chaos of his bedroom. It smells faintly like mold and sweat. Mingyu’s neck is sore from lying down improperly, and when he rolls over to check the time with bleary, stinging eyes, he sees 3:17am. 

He could’ve had another thirty minutes with Jeonghan before he needed to sleep for work. This fucking sucks. 

Mingyu picks up the idol AI box at the end of the bed and fiddles with the screen. Yoon Jeonghan’s signature is scrawled across the top, dainty and familiar, but the lights stay well and truly dead, along with the 4D illusion of the idol.

Mingyu is a lone wolf tonight.

Frustrated, he plugs in the box and wraps himself in his sheets. These need to be washed soon—his fingers brush a crusty edge when he rolls over. Tangy citrus aftertaste fades away slowly. His brain catches up to the loss in jerks and glitchy stutters. It’s always the worst, coming out unexpectedly.

He should’ve bought himself the newer model when it came out last Chuseok. The real Yoon Jeonghan is on his third solo album. Rumor has it the virtual upgrade has three different versions and one is a  _ wedding _ scene. Mingyu desperately wants to pull that one.

Tomorrow, then. Mingyu vows to buy it. Fuck his savings. He’ll need a pick-me-up anyway; nightly sessions with his idol are an essential part of his routine and he didn’t get to finish this one. 

So Mingyu shuts his eyes tight and hopes Jeonghan will appear in his dreams. He misses him already, misses him like a shattered mirror. Cracks of loneliness spread out from his chest like tributaries. His heart pounds so aggressively he feels it in his temples.

The truth is, every minute away from Jeonghan is dull and frightening. It takes a while for Mingyu to fall asleep in the stale air of his bedroom. What comforts him is the thought of seeing his boyfriend again tomorrow morning before he has to leave for work, then again after his shift.

Jeonghan will be waiting for him right at home.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> as an explanation... I had a really visceral reaction to the news of SM's new AI/virtual idol concept and I wrote this out of spite in almost one go. I don't know if this will stay on my profile but I wanted to expunge it from my brain hahaha. thank you for reading!!


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